Check out all the chapters by clicking HER(fix)E
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: LOOK BEFORE
Even though Max had dragged herself through the motions of getting ready earlier in the evening, exhausted from Hallie’s Grand Opening, she felt immediately awake and eager when she looked up at Donovan’s, its glass doors gleaming as they welcomed. Her hand tightened on the lawyer’s elbow, her other tucked into the crook of his arm.
“Are you ready?” he asked as they walked past security, who now knew both of them on sight.
“Of course.” Her spine stiffened and she tried to still her shaking knees as they made their way into the club. She didn’t know why she was nervous. This was far from her first time here, but it felt like the first time she was really entering it. Really meeting it as one of its own. As its equal. Its match.
“Enjoy yourself,” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. “You’re beautiful. You’re a success. And this is as much a party for you as it is for Hallie. You deserve this.”
With Bits ‘n’ Pieces’s street-wide opening a smashing success—if the praising press and the earlier tallied sales were any indicator—Max knew they all deserved a party. A congratulatory celebration. Kat, Pip, and some of the other volunteers had thrown it all together along with Hallie and Rachel.
Max marveled at their efforts, seeing most of the women present visibly wearing various pieces of Hallie’s creations in her honor, transforming lingerie into fine, formal wear. Lace balconette bras were paired with long flowing, high-waisted ballroom skirts. Silky camisoles were worn under perfectly tailored suit coats. Long, satiny slips were worn with the same grace and elegance as the gowns that would have normally hidden them from view.
Max looked at her escort, imagining the picture they presented together. As a special gift, Hallie had designed special, one-of-a-kind ensembles for Max and the civic-minded counselor. The fine, black linen, shot through with clever pinstripe accents of electric, silky blue, was cut in clean, efficient lines, playing on the model of a business suit. But intimate peeks of silk, leather, and gleaming steel lay stealthily within the deceptively corporate clothes, beautifully designed to please the eye even while they toed a teasing line with indecency. Lending the improper a professionalism Max would never have equated with kink wear.
Sent to their offices in pretty, periwinkle Bits ‘n’ Pieces boxes along with the invitations to the grand opening gala being held at Donovan’s tonight, they’d arrived with a personal thank you for each of them as well.
"We haven’t known each other long," Hallie had written to Max, "but you’ve meant more to me than most of the people in my life. I know I can never thank you, but I hope that tonight can be my start."
Max kept that thought in mind as her date swept her into the crowd. She was amazed by how many people recognized her. Many of the faces were unknown or at least still unfamiliar to her, but they’d already accepted her as one of their own. It helped that her companion seemed to know everyone by name, easing introductions and navigating the crowd.
He steered them toward the back area and through the halls, leading her with a gentle hand on the small of her back toward the playspace. The minute they entered the area, they were startled by uproarious laughter.
Max blinked, a little bewildered. Hallie, Cora, and Pip danced giddily around the room, bending low and giggling while they spun. Max watched with delight as the women practically skipped around a bent form nestled in the center, their gleeful hands reaching out to slap, tickle, and pinch.
Max narrowed her gaze on the writhing mass in the middle of the scene, hearing grunts and curses with every touch. “Is that Rand?” She blinked, mystified at the sight. The hard man did not seem the type to willingly be on the receiving end.
“It appears so.” Her escort smirked. “Kat was very proud that she’d talked Rand, who rarely bottoms, into doing so for the gala if she could raise at least six hundred dollars to go to renovations and start-up costs. Sponsored spanking, I believe she called it.” His grin widened. “Many of us chipped in, if just to see that rare occurrence happen. She ended up raising just under eight hundred dollars.”
“She’d asked you first, hadn’t she?” Max said, knowing her friend very well.
“It’s terribly unfortunate that I had other plans for tonight,” he replied, letting his hand slide down to caress her ass, “isn’t it?”
Max gave him her own grinning glance. “If I’d known it was for charity,” she said innocently, “I would have given you up.” With a low chuckle at the pout on his face, she added, “Anything for a good cause. Sir.”
Hallie looked up when she heard them laugh. “Max!” She came rushing forward before scooping Max in a fierce embrace. Pushing her an arms-length away, Hallie took a good look at the other woman. “You look beautiful, exactly how I knew you would!”
“It’s stunning.” Max looked down at herself, knowing she looked every inch the sexy corporate bitch, the epitome of downtown domination. A ball-busting, ass-kicking queen in full glory. Straightening her spine, Max found herself preening a bit. “Thank you so much. I love it.”
“After what you did for me,” Hallie said with a shake of her head, “you deserve it.” With a wicked waggle of her brows, she added, “And, in that outfit, you know what else you deserve?” Pulling on Max’s hand, she drew her deeper into the room. And toward the man bent on the floor. “Your very own submissive slave boy.”
Excuse me?
Max gaped and dug in her feet. She couldn’t do that. Not here. Not now. She’d never topped anyone before. Never Dommed, or whatever. She wouldn’t even know where to start. No, she shook her head, she couldn’t do that.
“What’s the matter, Red?” Rand taunted from the floor, looking up at her from his bound position, tied to the turquoise velvet and maple spank stool. “No fun hitting a man when it’s not a sucker punch?”
Sucker punch?!
“You deserved that slap and you know it,” Max snapped.
“Do it again!” she heard Kat shout from the sidelines. Max turned to see Kat, Peter, Reena, and Rachel sitting on the floor, watching and cheering.
Max smiled when she saw the lawyer settle cross-legged on the floor next to them. He nodded encouragingly.
“Now, now, no pressure.” Rand tutted, challenge and mischief sparking in his glittering eyes. “She’s just afraid that she’s not woman enough to top a man like me.”
What did he just say?
Max balked at the daring man. She arched a brow at him. “Not woman enough for a man like you?” Did he know who he was talking to?
“And she hits like a girl,” Rand added.
That was it!
She did not get insulted by half-dressed men tied to furniture.
Rearing her hand back, she smacked him in the ass. Hard. The sound thundered in her ears and seemed to echo within the space of her mind. She brought her other hand up to her mouth and stared at his leather-covered ass, imagining the harsh, red handprint she’d left on his flesh like fingerprints at a crime scene.
Oh my God.
She could feel the tremor of the strike rippling through her senses, her hand throbbing to a strange pulse that seemed to tick in time to her racing heart.
Oh God.
What had she done?
“Damn, girl.” Rand hissed, the muscles in his ass wriggling from the sting. “You just going to leave it there? One good hit before you quit?” He raised his head cockily. “Or do you have more in you?”
Max laughed. He wanted more?
She could hear the crowd behind her crow, urging her on. She gave one quiet peek at the enigmatic man watching intently from the floor, curious on his take. He gave her a knowing look, his aquatic eyes churning with a strange mix of pride and heat in his fiercely hewn face.
You’re a pleasure to look at.
Well, then she’d just have to give him a show, wouldn’t she?
Turning to face the other women, she laughed and dove right in.
———
He sat back and grinned at Max. The sadistic gleam in her beautiful, brown eyes and the twisted curve of those luscious lips were glorious.
She, along with the others, had been touching and teasing, hitting and heating Rand for near twenty minutes already. He’d loved watching Max, under the instruction of Rand and the other women, explore each new touch. The difference between an open-handed strike compared to a close-palmed one. How a blow to the inner thigh stung worse than one to the ass. How a feather-light touch to the right spot at the right time could have a stronger impact than the hardest hit. He loved to see this knowledge and experience dawning in her eyes.
He watched her pace the bulked-up, bound man who glowered and grunted, stuck in that often excruciating place between awkward discomfort and demanding arousal. The litigator watched her deliberately stalk around Rand, letting her cursing captive feel her presence, track her by sight, sound, and smell. She let him fill his senses with her.
“Aww,” she purred, trailing her manicured nails up his back along the ridge of his spine as she walked, “such a big, strong man.” She bent low to face him before cupping his chin in her hand, her nails tapping against his jaw. “Think you’re man enough to take on four little women?”
“Anytime, anywhere,” he answered, his voice a grated rasp in his throat. His glazed eyes stared heatedly at the sweet swell of Max’s cleavage proudly displayed by her silk bra. “Anytime, anywhere, baby.”
The room jumped when Cora—small in stature and size but a hellcat demon within—cracked a crop across his ass, making him jerk and yowl while the women laughed.
“Oh, give that here,” Pip said, her voice throaty, beckoning for the crop. She grabbed the proffered toy and tested it in her hand, swishing it with vicious swings in the air. “Oh yes.” Her long leg kicked back, lifting a high-heeled foot off the floor with delight. “This will do nicely.”
“Oh shit.” Rand snarled and began to struggle against the ropes. “Don’t give that to her. She gets power-crazed with a toy in her hand.”
“Hush,” Pip snapped. With a flick of her wrist, she slapped the rod against the sensitive area just under the hard curve of his ass. He yowled. Straightening to her full and impressive height, Pip wielded the crop like a fencer, swinging to strike in perfect form as Rand’s ass bounced and bucked.
The lawyer could see longing and nerves in Max’s eyes while she watched Pip work Rand over, studying her technique as well as his reactions. She was so curious, so willing and wanting; it was one of her most attractive qualities.
But she was still so new, to the community and to the very idea. She was just getting used to the desire inside her and it was still hard for her to ask. Catching Hallie’s eye, he nodded to Max, knowing the woman would understand.
“Do you want to try?” The observant designer took Max by the elbow and brought her closer to Pip. Taking the crop, she put it in Max’s hand.
“Oh,” Max sputtered, waving her hands in denial, “I don’t know.”
“It’s a crop, hon,” the pretty podcaster said, grabbing her wrist like a tennis instructor guiding her into a fluid backhand, “it’s not exactly a highly technical piece of equipment. Aim for the ass and swing for the fences.” Pip winked with mischievous sass at the inexperienced woman before she stepped back and slapped Rand’s well-worked cheek. “Don’t worry, this one can take it.”
Max stepped forward, the crop held in both hands. She stared at Rand’s upturned rump. The lawyer studied Max when she closed her eyes, clearly picturing the mental image she’d taken of Pip. He noticed how her feet slid back, taking on the same stance as the other woman. She gripped the crop in one hand.
Her first swing was light and a little off, hitting more of Rand’s hip than his ass. From the sidelines, the counselor saw her square her stance and strike again, this time hitting him harder across his left flank. He fought a laugh when she jumped as much as Rand did, surprise making its own impact.
A smile spread wickedly across her face. She was having fun.
Good.
“Even him out,” he called out to her. When she looked at him questioningly, he said, “Hit him again on the other side. To even him out.”
“Can’t have one without the other,” Peter added with a mock shake of his head. “You have to give him a matching set.”
“It would be wrong not to,” Kat added.
“Hey,” Rand shouted over his shoulder, “no help from the peanut gallery.”
The lawyer chuckled at the pouting, bound man’s plight when Max clapped her hands together in devastating preparation. Readying for a show, he settled back to watch Max work.
WANT MORE?
No comments:
Post a Comment